Once Djeto had won his fight, Sayre had leaned back feeling relaxed. I'll have to buy another headpiece, she though with amusement. She glanced at Nare, who looked much calmer also. Sayre had to prevent her from chewing on her fingernails several times, so Sayre didn't think she'd take her along for another fight night. It simply looked undignified. She hoped the following matches would be just as entertaining as the ones so far.

Last edited by Runes on Sun Nov 04, 2007 9:31 pm, edited 1 time in total.

Illen'sana looked around before seeing the man at the table who was talking to her. He was right, no doubt about that but that wasn't what she wanted to hear now. "They are ready, both of them. But this thing isn't what they are used to, hell, they might have even never seen one of these before."
Illen didn't even bother telling who her fighters were, her mind too clouded by the wine she let herself drop down in the pillows of a chair near the arena edge.
"They got good equipment now and they got the skill, well, he has skill I certainly hope she has too, haven't seen it yet. But it's still soon" she spoke, more to herself then the man a bit further.

Meck watched the woman as she talked. it was the respectable thing to do. After she sat down on the pillows Meck made a gamble, he got up from his seat and stood near the woman. The respectable distance that a bodyguard would. Since Meck did was his longsword on his side even if he didnt have his armor one. just the plain scarlet cloths that looked as if they were freshly cleaned that morning.

"If I may m'ladyship. I would like to ask if you are the owner of the two gladiators known as 'The Highwayman and the Bandit Queen'? If this is so, then you have no reason to worry. From what i heard of their previous match, the male does indeed have the skill. Also, if they are mates, he will protect the woman like a mother wolf will protect her pups. humans have a very strong bond like that."

Meck spoke is a calm, humble tone. trying to be respectful to the lady and doing his best not to insult her. she seemed like a bussness woman and one that might help Meck get a job. perhaps as a guard or bodyguard if Isha should fall in the ring. But Meck did not worry about that happening very easly. Isha was a surviver and if she fell the other fighter would be first or following her to the abysis shortly there after.

Telanna'sanna sat back down in her chair after the fight, and gulped down the last of her drink quickly. Rubbing the bridge of her nose she thought about all the added difficulty and costs of having Ki'ciel back to fighting strength golem limbs were expensive and learning how to fight with it would take time.

Ordering another glass she settled in the chair, her cool expression returning to her face.

FIGHT 5"AND NOW," the announcer said after a warning beat of the drums signalled that the intermission was coming to an end, "WE HAVE A SPECIAL TREAT FOR YOU. TODAY, AT GREAT COST, THE ARENA HAS MANAGED TO BRING A GREAT BEAST FROM THE SURFACE. A FEARSOME COMBATANT, HE WEIGHS OVER TWO HUNDRED KILOGRAMS OF MUSCLE, BONE AND HORN. A TAURAM, THE BULL-FOLK; MAHKAH IS HERE TODAY AT THE GRACE OF TRADER DHUR GHIL'AMA.

HIS OPPONENTS YOU SAW LAST WEEK; ALEHN AND JILI, THE HIGHWAYMEN AND HIS BANDIT QUEEN OF ILLEN'SANA FELL'SIRRIN, RETURNED TO SHOW THEIR MIGHT. WILL IT BE ENOUGH?"

The drums thundered in emphasis and paused as the second pair of gates opened for the second time. From the first gate came a hulking figure, each step thumping loudly as it trudged forward. While technically bipedal, it indeed looked like a cross between a bull and a man, with great cleft hooves and a bovine face with large horns and short black hair covered it's entire body, with thicker patches on the legs, head, forearms and loins. The weapon in its shackled hands could only be described as a mace, but it was large; a long pole with a heavy metal head on the end, and looked hastily constructed; it was larger than a normal two-handed weapon.

From the other gate entered Alehn and Jili, their mottled leather breastplates standing out against the rest of their armor, giving them sort of a brigandish look to them; the taller male hefted his axe in his hand and rolled it while Jili held her swords in her hands. To their credit, they did not slow when they saw the beast-man they had to face, although the did seem to speak to each other.

With a nod, Jili picked up her pace and strode straight for the hefty tauram. The beast watched her with glinting eyes as she approached, blasting a huff of air from its nostrils as it shook it's shaggy head with powerful neck muscles, when the human female used the motion of her stride to set up and open stance and, with the momentum of her steps, slashed upwards and right up the tauram's snout.

"FIRST BLOOD!" The announcer cried to the scream of the crowd, Mahkah rearing back and belowing in pain as blood spattered from the slit up the center of its lips and between it's nostrils; a painful, messy and embarassing wound. He slammed forward once again and made a blind sweep with his mace, but Jili had already backed out of range and held the bloody tip of her sword aloft with a fierce grin.

Mahkah lowered back down and began to approach now, his ire raised with a snort of fury which spattered more blood leaking down his lips and matting the hair hanging from his chin. Jili remained low and ready, backing up and keeping her eyes on the beast while Alehn flanked him. The tauram swung it's mace once again and, when Jili moved to dodge, he freed one hand and sent a punch in the direction she traveled to intercept her.

Flattening out, Jili sprawled on the ground beneath the fist, pushing herself into a fighter's roll and coming up into a crouch, breaking off into a run that attracted the tauram's attention. He turned to give chase and took a step when Alehn jumped into the fray with his axe, whacking Mahkah in the hip with a heavy stroke that earned a cheer from the crowd.

The beastman howled in pain again and turned, swinging the mace which Alehn managed to dodge, mostly, but it clipped him and sent him to the ground. Shaking his head, the male started to rise, grabbing his axe and working to get to his feet as the tauram approached, but Jili was already doing her part and lay into Mahkah's other hip with a furious two-stroke combination that earned a backhanded swat from the bull.

The female ducked under the swipe and made a jab for the tauram's ribs, darting to the left as the fist came crashing down trying to break her skull. She opened a slice in his forearm and bit into his calf with her steel before dancing away again.

Alehn had regained his feet by then, hefting his axe with a grimace, charging forward with a low woodcutter's chop to the back of mahkah's knee that seemed a bit weak, but still send the tauram crashing forward to all fours. He moved for a follow-on slice when the bull turned and dragged it's head to the side, slamming the curve of one large horn into Alehn. Though the human parried with his axe, he was sent staggering back a few feet, the handle of his weapon bent badly and clutching his side. He backed away from the fight, warily, limping.

But Jili saw the opening, once again darting forward and slicing deep into the tauram's neck. As the bull-warrior reached for her, she jabbed her short sword into his palm and cut into one bicep, backing off as he tried to lurch forward and impale her with one horn. Though a tear opened up in her armor, she merely staggered and regained her footing, but no blood could be seen.

Blades held at the ready, she feinted back for the injured side of the tauram's neck and, when he tried to protect it with his horns, she bounded back with a parting cut to the other side from his neck.

Mahkah's massive head began to droop, the sand beneath his form, now on all fours. The sand beneath him was stained red with a great deal of blood, and the tauram was clearly weakened. Soon, he was unable to lift his head at all. A low, mournful bellow was released from his mouth as Jili and Alehn looked up to the crowd.

At the chorus of "SPARE THE BEAST! SPARE HIM!" both bowed their heads and saluted. Jili moved to put herself under Alehn's shoulder and helped him limp out of the arena, to the applause of the crowd.

"AND ALEHN AND JILI ARE OUR VICTORS; WELL DONE!" The announcer shouted as Arena workers came to collect the bleeding tauram from the ring. It took quite a bit of sand to cover the stains.

Yu'sharazi smiled slightly from where he stood, leaning against a pillar and staring down at the battlefield.
It was clear he judged well, and the bet he had made on them, small though it was, was worth it. Clearly, the team was a force to be reckoned with...

The third set of gates opened for the second time, and the pale light elf with the black hair in her hunting leathers with knife strapped to thigh and spear tucked under her arm walked into the arena, eyes forward on the drow that entered from the other gate.

The drow herself was fairly unremarkable, really, she wore layers of spidersilk clothes that looked more like a dancer's costume than a fighting outfit, a slightly slender blade in her hand, staring back without an equal lack of hesitation.

They stopped out of range of each other in the center and bowed to each other with the drums thundering out the tune when Kythera spun her spear into action and lunged forward with a rapid double-thrust which her opponent knocked one way then the other with a smooth twist of her wrist.

Kythera stepped back with an appraising stare, attempting a high feint with a low thrust that were also smoothly countered. From the stands the smile on Kythera's face was invisible, but the impatient crowd was soon satisfied as the two burst into a more impressive display.

Clicks and clacks sounded as the wood haft of her staff impacted the sleek sword Iyalla carried, the drow woman's deftness put to the serious test as the two of them danced together. Iyalla made a few half-counters with her weapon but focused on defending.

A few more strikes and Kythera snapped the butt of her spear around to strike, Iyalla angling her blade in line with her body, tip pointed to the ground, catching the weapon. A brief moment passed and suddenly the tables turned. The steel weapon glinting as it blurred into life, Iyalla pressed the advantage, each blow coming in at different angles and paths, keeping Kythera constantly shifting in order to block.

With a feint of her own, Iyalla twisted and spun, bringing the blade around with a snap of her wrist, the staff haft brought up to meet it parting into two pieces in Kythera's hand as she backed up in surprise. The drow did not wait and thrust, the slender blade piercing the pocket of her right shoulder, splitting through the leather with a surprising ease visible even at a distance.

Kythera eked out a small cry, gasped as the half of her spear with the head fell from her numbed fingers, the crowd cheering at the blow.

"FIRST BLOOD!" The announcer cried.

Iyalla thrust twice more, shifting her feet forward with a cloud of sand, then, Kythera using the remaining half of her spear in her left hand to deflect the blows, swatting the drow in the chin with a clumsy upstroke; had the blow been well formed, perhaps it would have been blocked, but the unpredictability of her left hand had gotten in a lucky strike.

Taking advantage of the moment, the light elf whacked the haft against the drow's knee and then throat before kicking her back to the ground. Her right hand, still trembling, drew the knife at her thigh as she charged forward to go for the kill quickly when Iyalla angled the sword up and thrust from her supine position to stab her opponent in the hip, biting deeply.

The drow got to her feet as Kythera sank to her knees, pulling the blade out and swatting the light elf's hand with the flat of her blade, sending the knife flipping away, and stabbing Kythera in the thigh. The light elf let a shriek this time and flopped back when the blade was withdrawn, rolling onto her stomach and trying to crawl away.

The crowd hissed and jeered while the drow took another pointed stab to the still unwounded leg, causing her opponent to crawl forward with just her left arm. With a couple of lazy swipes of her sword, Iyalla opened up bright crimson lines in the pale leather of Kythera's armor, playing with her helpless pray like a cat with a meal, raising her sword for a cheer from the crowd.

One last slow pull forward with her left hand and Kythera lay on her arms, moaning in pain. Looking down at her disdainfully, Iyalla waited for the "KILL HER! KILL HER! KILL HER!" before kneeling down on the light elf's wounded back, earning a scream of pain before grabbing her dark hair and pulling her head back. Blade lain across her throat, the drow woman prepared to slit her throat when she stiffened suddenly and did not move.

From the proper angle, spectators saw what happened and sat in a moment of disbelief as Kythera had been laying on the spear half of her broken weapon and shoved it back over her shoulder, catching the drow in the chin and piercing to her brain.

Slowly, Iyalla's body began to tilt until it fell over, blood leaking from the wound into the sand, Kythera just laying there. A hush moved across the crowd as they waited to see if she would move, when finally she reached forward with her left hand and began to pull herself forward, taking a few deep breaths before she tried to push herself to her hands and knees.

Grunting in pain, she tucked her right arm to her side, the pale leathers stained with her blood. A few more breaths and she managed to get to one knee, and the crowd began to chant to urge her on. Her teeth grit, she pushed up and growled as she finally managed to get to her feet.

Her left hand gripped the open wound on the back of her thigh, keeping it closed as she continued to growl in pain and began to limp to the gate. When she finally made it, the gates closed behind her and the crowd's chant turned into applause.

"KYTHERA IS THE VICTOR!" The announcer announced, as he was wont to do.

Jhael'na smiled as her fighter danced around with her weapon to her opponent, but shouted out "NO!" scaring her drowussu servant to death when Kythera's spear broke in two. She gasped a bit as she stood up watching her light elf go on the defensive, then cringing as First Blood was announced. As the fight went on, Jhael'na gripped the railling of the second tier seat she was in, straining in her view of the battle below. Although she was getting angrier as the fight went on from every strike at her slave, even up to the part where her fighter was seemingly about to be killed, Jhael'na was also feeling some brief sadness. Kythera had great potential, and Jhael'na was grooming her for something she had planned as a possibible eventuallity later on.

Until the drow who everyone thought had won, stopped moving when it appeared there was a spear shaft in her head. A grin began to appear on Jhael'na's face, one that grew wider as her pale skinned fighter started moving more and more. She continued to watch until the gate closed behind Kythera, and the crowd applauded the efforts of her gladiator.

Unknowingly, she breathed a sigh of relief and smiled to Mei'la showing that she was not angry anymore, but glad for the win. Inwardly however, she was concerned for Kythera, more so than normal for reasons she kept to herself.

The slaver Lady nodded and wanted to reply when the cleaners cleared out and an omnious silence fell over the Arena, it was like everyone in the building could sense the beginning of a new match even before the announcer spoke. Her ears twitched and her eyes glimmered when hearing her fighters being announced, they remembered them from last week, famous fighters.
As the tauram entered the field Illen elbowed her way through to the edge of the balcony, even with the city close to the surface she had seen these beasts maybe only once before in her life since they were quite useless in her part of the slave trade. While watching the fight she learned she had misjudged Jili, she wasn't a poor defenceless little girl, no, in this match where speed and agility gave her an edge she was the centerpiece of this fighting duo. She should have given her a second weapon the first time.

When the match was over Illen was happy they had shown mercy, for some reason this animal seemed to have more honor then the humans she saw last week. Pity for the animal made place for pink cloud of victory she kissed the male next to her on the cheek "May your gladiator be as succesfull as mine, unless mine are chopping yours to pieces", she then turned back to the arena and continued cheering for her fighters. Meanwhile Malirr had come closer and leaned towards Meck "My apologies Lord, my Ladyship tends to get slightly, affectionate from the wine here." He then moved to his Lady and lured her back to her seat with the promise of a new drink to celebrate the succesfull fight and to keep her from interrupting the start of the next fight.

Neal'la was once again sitting close to the railing munching on a few cheap appitizers while jotting notes into a notepad, each page bearing the fight number and pertinent information on all participants, even those that had died. One can learn from the mistakes of others just as well as their successes.

Zohraisha drew another lungful of Ivat-smoke from her carved bone pipe, exhaling languidly. She had watched all the fights with interest, especially that of her own human, of course. After he won she had rewarded herself with a glass of wine, but other than that she had shied away from alcohol.
She was still on shaky ground, what with her debt and all, no reason to get herself arrested for public intoxication just yet.

Resisting a sudden urge to gnaw furiously on the band circling her left wrist, she glanced at the other owners, since there was no fight going on where she could watch the gladiators with interest.

Really, it was much like a card game, except the player's hand was the gladiator. Bluffing would get you nowhere, though, once the gladiator was in the ring facing an opponent the cards were revealed. She wondered idly what motivations the various owners had. At least they seemed easier to read than a table full of game faces.

The first set of gates opened for the third time, out walking the chain-clad drow female, carrying a short sword in her hand. It bounced in her grip as she entered the arena with long strides, crossing the Arena with purpose. She was simply clad but didn't seem to mind with it at all

From the other side came a drow that some might recognize from the cloth headgear that draped down his back, or the white tattoos exposed on his arms; the male slave that had shared the same porch with Isha at Yasha's was now in the ring, holding a longsword in hand and wearing a leather breastplate that left his arms exposed to show off the tattoos. Bright lines were painted in white on his face, giving him a fierce look at a distance.

He saw her approach and lowered himself into a ready stance to meet her, and when she started to move within range, he tensed, ready to strike. At this, Isha turned to the side and kicked an impressive plume of sand up, diving forward into the obscuring veil with blade out.

As the falling sand settled, Yuta had fallen and rolled away, getting to his feet and holding his left arm to his side, blood dripping to the sand from a long gash in his bicep. Isha hopped back from the other side, one edge of her short sword gleaming crimson.

"FIRST BLOOD!" The announcer cried.

As the crowd cheered, Isha wasted no time in charging forward again, exchanging a pair of blows which the male parried, only to set him up for an opening that allowed her to swat the cut she had just made with the flat of her short sword, eliciting a cry of pain from the male.

Yuta did not give Isha a chance to repeat that performance, as he opened the distance between them where his longer blade was useless and proceeded to keep her at bay with it, using small, efficient thrusts to keep pressing her back, withdrawing the blade when she swatted it aside and pulling it close to deal with any counters.

To her credit, held at a stalemate like she was, she did not try to kick sand again, as repeating the same trick was indicative of a lack of ideas. But it was clear from her stance that she was getting impatient with simply being held back. She sent several insults his way, taking a step forward aggressively, only to be held back by a pointed jab at an exposed part.

Tension built at the play back and forth, and the crowd was beginning to grow restless with the lack of anything exciting happening, hissing occasionally when Isha made her move.

With a feint, she drew Yuta into a thrust which she placed her blade underneath and hauled upwards, sending both their blades arcing up and back down to earth until his sword bit into the sand. Raising a foot, she stomped down on the blade, catching it by the flat and tearing it from the fingers, slamming it to the ground.

Moving quickly, she grabbed the collar of his breastplate and pulled him forwards, ramming a knee up into his groin, although he did not double over in pain and Isha seemed genuinely surprised by that turn of events. Raising his arm, Yuta brought an elbow into her face, sending blood coming down her nose and, as she reeled back, he kicked her in the gut to send her to the ground.

He was on top of her hard then, scrabbling to tear the short sword from her fingers when she relinquished her weapon and, in his moment of triumph, set her legs, grabbed his sword wielding arm and rolled him.

They fell on top of where his sword lay, pinning it to the ground beneath his body and, although he had his legs wrapped firmly around her, she had the arm that held her sword. When she gave his wrist a twist and pulled her sword free, he immediately stopped pushing her away and pulled her close, to keep from getting stabbed in the gut.

Her legs spread, she pushed all of her weight against him and angled the short sword down towards his neck, and he managed to get a grip on the weapon to slow it's deadly descent. The crowd cheered in grisly anticipation as Yuta's free hand scrabbled for the sword trapped beneath him before coming around to punch Isha's face, hard.

The female spat blood to the side as the male's hand clawed at her cheeks, the point drawing closer when she freed one hand and punched the inside of the elbow that resisted her, buckling his arm and sending the point jabbing downward.

Yuta stiffened, then went limp. The crowd cheered as Isha stood, looking tired through her bloody features, and raising her short sword in triumph. She scanned the crowd until she stopped, raising her blade again before turning to scan the second balcony. Upon seeing Meck, she saluted with blade a third time and turned and heading back to the gate with a slow, limping walk. As she passed through the gate, the crowd gave another cheer.

The crowd cheered as the second set of gates opened for the second time. On the one side, an exotic looking human wearing simple clothes walked calmly into the arena. He looked straight ahead as he walked and did not look into the crowd at all.

Which was a good thing, actually, as the black-and-grey striped feral that came out of the other side did so at a full sprint, tail puffed and bottlebrush, clearing the distance between the two in a few seconds. Wren, in a repeat of a similar situation from a different fighter last week, did not shy away from the charge.

Jago sprang the last several feet with claws extended, hissing as Wren stepped aside and assisted his opponent in an introduction with the ground. The human stepped back and, although a human opponent might have been winded by the blow, the feral was up and charging again immediately.

This seemed to take Wren by surprise as Jago was on him for a brief few moments, clawing and biting, Wren finally managed to throw the feral to the ground again, blood leaking from a few dozen wounds.

"FIRST BLOOD!" The announcer said with a note of amusement, and the crowd cheered; while this spectacle might not have been so dramatic as some of the blade wielding fights, Wren would have to beat the feral to death, and that always proved entertaining.

When Jago rose this time, Wren moved forward with a snapping kick to the face, sending the feral reeling back and staggering. When the feral tried to move again, a heavy kick to the side was delivered. Each time the feral tried to rise, the Emberi martial artist delivered a more vicious attack, each time the feral still struggling to rise.

Finally, the feral sprang back at the next attempt to rise instead of forward, opening a distance between them before charging forward again, aiming a bite for the human's neck. Wren put his arm in the way, grimacing but making no sound, raising a fist to punch the feral straight in the nose, lowering into a steady stance.

Jago backed up, clutching his nose with water leaking from his eyes, but it was this moment that Wren took the advantage. In a blindingly fast series of blows, the Emberi proceeded to beat the feral senseless, unceasing in his flurry of blows. He continued with well-placed strike after well-placed strike until well after the feral could no longer fight back, and with each blow the crowd 'oooh'd and 'ahhh'd at the sheer brutality required for the human to do it to the feral, which were generally more resiliantly constructed.

He left the heap of fur laying there, although close inspection indicated that the feral was still alive, somewhat, and he moved towards the gate; his clothes were tattered and stained with the blood from the furrows of scratches and bite marks, and he face was a hard mask. The crowd applauded as he left, and did not request he go back to finish the job.